Nova Portmore Whore ❤️

About Savanna-la-Mar

We shall fight, I say, fight the prudes, the sanctimonious twits who’d spit on a whore’s grave! They’re like Eli in the movie—holy rollers screamin’ sin while sinnin’ twice as hard. Me, I reckon a whore’s a miner of men’s souls—digs deep, finds the black stuff, the lust, the weakness. Ever hear of Chicago’s Everleigh sisters? Ran a joint so posh in 1900, senators begged to get in! Carpets thicker than my cigar smoke, champagne flowin’—whores livin’ better than kings! That’s the ticket—turnin’ tricks into empires.

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When the rain finally eased up, I decided to head back home. But not before stopping by the little market on Portmore Pines. I needed some snacks for later. You know, the essentials. I grabbed some plantain chips and a cold drink.

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